Duncan sat behind the large table, his boots stretched toward the dying fire and a half-filled glass at his side. The look he gave Jack when their eyes met was unreadable. Almost half suspicion, half calm. The kind of calm Jack knew would come with several questions.
“Is it nae past yer bedtime, Braither?” Duncan asked, a coy smile playing on his lips.
Jack narrowed his eyes. “Hilarious as always, Duncan.”
Duncan shrugged and watched him pull out another chair. “From the look on yer face, I can only guess ye had a conversation with yer bride.”
Jack nodded. “Theconversation. I told her everything.”
Duncan studied him for a long moment, twirling the glass in his hand. “Then there’s nay turning back, is there?”
Jack nodded once. “Nay, there isnae.”
The flames whispered as they burned down. Duncan lifted his glass, and the light caught the surface of the liquid inside.
“She kens the worst about ye now,” he said. “If she stays, I suppose that says something.”
Jack stared into the fire, wrestling with the notion of telling his brother that Emma had agreed to marry him. At first, he thought of changing the subject, but then he decided against it at the last minute.
“Well, seeing that she just agreed to marry me, I suppose that says more than something.”
Duncan’s eyebrow rose. “Did she?”
Jack nodded, fighting the urge to smile. “Aye.”
Duncan nodded, a grin splitting his face. “Then maybe ye’re learning what love is, after all.”
Jack smiled faintly. “Call it what ye like. I just daenae want to lose her.”
The silence settled between them again, more comfortably this time.
Jack leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he watched the logs burn in the low fire.
“She’ll bring light into this castle,” Duncan murmured after a while. “Maither has said it since the day she arrived.”
“She already has,” Jack admitted. His voice was low, and he was almost surprised by his own honesty. “I just daenae ken what to do with it.”
Duncan chuckled softly. “A reasonable man would try nae to put out the light. The question is whether or nae ye are reasonable.”
Jack nodded, letting the words sink in. They continued to drink until the glasses were empty and the fire was practically out. When Jack finally rose to his feet, Duncan stayed where he was, his head resting against the back of the chair.
“Rest, Jack,” he urged. “Considering everything ye did yesterday, ye’ve earned a quiet night.”
Jack nodded and crossed the hall. His boots echoed once on the stone floor, then softened as he stepped into the corridor and climbed the stairs to the upper floor.
The air grew colder as he moved, but there was one more stop he needed to make. He paused at his daughter’s door and rested a hand against the frame.
Inside, he heard the small, even sound of her breathing. The nurse had long since gone to bed, and the child slept in peace, untouched by the noise that had filled the castle these past days.
He gently pushed the door open and watched her through the narrow crack, the faint moonlight catching her cherubic face. He stood there longer than he had meant to.
The sight soothed something within him that had been churning since the morning. He thought of Heron and what he could have said to him before the arrow quieted him for life. He wished the man had arrived sooner. Or that he had spotted the rider before he shot the arrow.
Now, he was back to where he had started, with no clue as to who wanted his daughter gone and his bride dead. His resolve to fight for them till his last breath, however, had not wavered. He still intended to do just that.
He pulled the door shut and turned down the corridor, his steps quiet against the floor. At his door, he paused and unbuttoned his shirt. The air here was different from that in Emma’s chambers or the Great Hall. It smelled faintly of wood smoke and wax.
He poured a little water into the basin, rubbed his palms clean, and splashed some on his face. When he was done, he crossed to the window and looked out over the dark sweep of the hills beyond. The stars hung low above the horizon, cold and clear.
